


Brother's Malady

by Daughter_of_the_Mountains



Series: Nadadel [17]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Love, Healing, Non-Acquainted Family Members, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Mountains/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Mountains





	Brother's Malady

"Who do you work for?"

_"No_ one."

Dís hears a heavy thud, a cry of pain and quickens her pace. Arriving outside the door, she opened it and stepped inside the icy little room. She narrowed her eyes at the two guardsmen. "Who gave you permission to harm him?" Blank stares. Dwarf-men always stare at her like this. It's as though they are afraid she might explode. She has no idea why. _"Answer me!"_

Shuffling of feet. Finally one mumbles; "Just wanted to make it quick to get words out of him."

Dís looks at the tender, purple bruising on the thief's face, the bleeding cuts up and down his arms, nearly deep enough to kill him. "You absolute _idiots_. My brother and cousin both _ordered_ you to not harm him. Look what you've both done!" As an afterthought, she adds; "And where were you when the old bastard tried to strangle the little one? Hmm?"

Now they look surly. "That weren't our fault, _woman!"_

Dís steps closer to them, pleased by how they take a step back. "Don't call me 'woman' like it's an _insult_ , you small-stoned, cowardly sacks of shit. Get out before I shear you like lambs. _Out!"_

They obediently leave and Dís looks toward the thief. She has no sympathy for him, but she wishes they had not harmed him so. 

"Thanks," murmurs the lad.

"I didn't do it for you." Dís says. She catches sight of his eyes despite the dimness of the room. Dusky green. They look familiar, but she can't quite place him. She turns away from him and his green eyes only to feel a hand on her wrist. She snatches the dagger from the sheath in the belt she wears around her waist, but he makes no move to harm her. 

"Help me. Please. I know she's contacted you. Didn't she tell you I'd be here?"

Dís stares at him. He slowly releases her wrist, but his eyes, large and green and desperate keep staring into her blue. Now she steps back. She knows of only one female who has contacted Ered Luin in recent years, but there was never any mention of visitors aside from the Assassins. "Whose son are you?"

He looks at her, his eyes turning from desperate to confused. "Princess, can you really not tell?"

* * *

 

"Trust me, little brother." Óin says for what feels like the thousandth time. "I'm not going to hurt your little neck."

"You also said the purple stuff you forced Da to put on me when I got stung by stingies wouldn't hurt and it _did."_

"Well, this won't." 

Glóin gives him a very doubting look, but tries his hardest not to recoil. It's hard not to panic at even the light touch to his throat, but he holds tightly to his brother's hand and it helps some. 

"There. Done. Was it that bad?" Óin asks him, gently tucking his hair behind his ears.

"Yes," he answers.

"Hmm. If it was, you'd have been leading me on a mad chase around the room." Óin tells him. "Now, didn't I say I'd owe you something if you went into the temple without complaining?"

"A jug of ale?"

"Ha! Nice try, nadadith! No, a cup."

"Even though I never got to the temple?"

Óin gives him a kiss on the forehead. "That wasn't your fault. You were interrupted, quite rudely, I might add!"

"I thought he was good, nadad." Glóin repeats.

"I know, brother, I know." Óin answers, for what feels like the infinitive time. "That wasn't your fault either." To himself, he thinks,  _'It was_ mine _for not putting my foot down on the matter.'_

* * *

" _'Princess, can you really not tell?'_?" Dwalin says, repeating Dís' words. "Bloody melodramatic fool.  I almost wish you'd grabbed him by the throat and warned him this father of his would never be able to recognise him if he doesn't tell us about the Assassins."

"His eyes look very familiar. The eye colour."

"That's because they're the colour of _moss_. No wonder they look familiar."

Dís swats his arm. "His _eye colour_ , you overgrown heathen. His. Eye. Colour. Looks. Familiar. Did anyone in the family ever have green eyes?"

Slightly smarting at the 'overgrown heathen' comment and rubbing his muscular arm, Dwalin thinks awhile and finally answers; "Didn't Frerin have green eyes?"

"They were _hazel_ , idiot."

"What's the difference?"

"Hazel is more _brown_ than _green_ , that's what. I'm beginning to think it's true, that men are colourblind!"

"Does it matter what eye colour that little bugger has?"

"It might. He mentioned _her_. He knows _she's_ been writing us."

Dwalin looks down at her, surprised. "Who is this boy? Could it be another son of _hers_ , do you think?"

" _She's_ 276 years old and he's about 90 at the most. I think _her_ childbearing days were put behind her after _she_ had-"

"Dís. Don't. I don't want to talk about _her_ children."

"Exactly. Her children. Her son." Dís says.

Dwalin's expression darkens. "Him! Traitorous bastard. He's caused pain enough, like his witch of a mother. If that is _his_ son we have, he's been causing pain too. He deserves what he gets."

"Her letter asked us to do something."

"Aye. I'll protect the ones she mentioned. I'll do nothing for _that_ one."

Dís knows there's no more talking about the subject. He's reaching his limit and if she pushes anymore, he'll go silent, resentful like he does when the topic of the eastern sorceress comes up."Alright. Are you going to see your cousins?"

"Yeah, I'm just waiting for Balin to come along. Are you coming?"

She pauses. "Maybe later." This answer doesn't please Dwalin, but he doesn't press the subject either. Instead, he nods, pretends to believe her and acts like he hasn't heard this answer hundreds of times before.

She never visits. Thorin never visits. It's simply the way things are and have always been.

 

 

 


End file.
